


In Hindsight

by Fanciful_Flesh



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Bruises, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Double Penetration, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanciful_Flesh/pseuds/Fanciful_Flesh
Summary: It wasn't like you didn't deserve a night out. Best case scenario, you'd have a fun story to look back on later, and worst case scenario?Well, there was no point in dwelling on that. You didn't want to jinx it, right?(Aka, how a last minute night on the town quickly spirals into the worst night of your life.)
Relationships: Rire (Boyfriend to Death)/Reader, Strade (BTD/TNR)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	In Hindsight

This was not how the night was supposed to go.

You should have been home two hours ago, binge watching one of those popular, new Netflix shows while halfway through a bag of chips, and wearing a comfortable pair of house clothes. It wasn't like you had work tomorrow, so you would've had time to really enjoy yourself.

But instead, you decided to try out the new cafe a few blocks away from your apartment. It wasn't too chilly that evening, so after putting on a comfortable set of clothes that still made you look good, you grabbed your phone, wallet, and keys before heading out. Walking instead of driving was a nice change of pace and saving money on gas was a bonus, but you eventually made it, and after buying one of your favorite bottled drinks, you planted yourself down at an unoccupied table near the back of the cafe. It was somewhat busy, with people in pairs or small groups occupying most of the area, so you figured that you wouldn't have to worry too much about dealing with an unwanted interaction, or confrontation.

Staying out of trouble is what kept people safe, after all. But trouble had a way of seeking people out, and tonight, it had appeared in the form of a curious stranger who had suddenly tapped your shoulder while you idly sipped from your beverage. How did you not hear their footsteps approaching you from behind? You turned around in your chair, exhaling in annoyance as you prepared to dismiss whoever was bold enough to invade your personal space in the first place. Instead, you gasped in surprise when you came face-to-face with an attractive stranger.

Behind you stood a tall, well dressed gentleman, with dark hair that was pulled back into a sleek ponytail. A well-kept soul patch highlighted the point on his chin, and he wore a thick pair of sunglasses that framed his face, yet hid his eyes entirely; even when you tried to peer through the lenses, you couldn’t make out what they looked like. He seemed out of place, as if the casual cafe you two inhabited was beneath someone of his class. Or what you assumed was his class, given that his choice of clothing practically screamed 'rich'.

He complimented your outfit and choice of bottled drink before properly introducing himself as Rire. It was a unique name but easy to remember, and something about the charming way he spoke couldn’t help but draw you in. And it didn't hurt that the strong cologne he was wearing was one of the few that you actually liked, though you couldn't quite recall the name of it.

Although it was only small talk, it didn't feel awkward. If anything, you only found yourself more interested in the things that he had to say, and didn't even notice that an hour had gone by until you asked him for the time. Curious, you went to check your phone for any new messages that might have come up in that time, but frowned upon realizing that your phone was dead.

Great. Just great.

With a sigh, you chugged the rest of your drink before looking around for the nearest garbage bin, mumbling something about having to head back home. But before you could properly walk past him, Rire gently grabbed your wrist, causing you to halt your steps before turning to face him again. He had offered you a ride home, something that you would normally decline from a stranger you had just met. But he was the most attractive man you had seen all night; you'd be a fool to say no!

A fool, yes. But the type of fool that would have been on their way home, and likely would have forgotten about him the next morning...

Instead, you were the type of fool to nod in agreement, and follow him out of the cafe after getting rid of your bottle. You should have known something was off when Rire suddenly turned, and started walking in the opposite direction of the cafe's parking lot towards an alleyway. Confused, you were about to point out Rire's mistake before he quickly reassured you that he was taking a shortcut. Something about following a stranger into an alleyway this late into the evening seemed like a bad idea, but before could express another concern, you were attacked the moment you and Rire turned into the alleyway.

You didn't even have time to scream before you were suddenly hit over the head with a large, blunt object. Pain shot through your body as you began to feel dizzy, stumbling and swaying for a moment before dropping onto the dirty ground beneath your shoes with a loud 'thud'. As you began to lose consciousness, you could faintly pick up on the conversation taking place above you.

"...What?" The stranger spoke with a noticeable accent. Was that German, or Dutch?

"I did not think that _this_ was what you meant by having a 'special technique'." This voice was familiar; low, smooth, and elegant. You knew who _that_ voice belonged to.

"It works much better this way! Besides, drugs take way too long to kick in."

"Are you sure that was not just an excuse to hit them?"

"Hitting them is also _way_ more fun!"

"Brutality does have its moments, yes."

* * * * *

You woke up with a tired groan, squinting as your eyes tried to adjust to the surprisingly well lit room. It looked like a garage or basement of some sort, and trying to move made you realize that both of your hands had been bound to a cold, steel pole behind you. There was no one else in sight, something that was both comforting and unsettling, because it likely meant that the bastard that did this to you would return. You decided that trying to break free of your restrains was your top priority, squirming and fidgeting in the ropes until your wrists started to ache and burn. Where the hell were you, and what happened to Rire? Was he attacked too, or…?

The sound of heavy footsteps coming down the creaky staircase to your left interrupted your train of thought, and you gasped in surprise when you realized it was Rire himself. But he looked perfectly fine, a stark contrast in comparison to the frazzled state you were in. Why was he just standing there with an amused expression on his face? Was this some sort of sick joke to him, or worse; was this something he had planned from the very beginning? The very thought of it made you sick to your stomach.

Still, you had a sliver of hope. Maybe he would realize how scared you were, and show some compassion. You tried to confront him, spitting out as many questions as you could muster in that short space of time. He had confirmed the worst of your suspicions; that he had planned this from the very beginning, that he had no intention on letting you go, and that the crazy man who had knocked you out earlier was actually his accomplice. And said accomplice, as if right on cue, was the next person to come bumbling down the steps. The difference between them was night and day; He was a bit on the shorter side with a heavier build, and eyes that appeared amber colored thanks to the room’s lighting. His brown, chin-length, hair looked incredibly unkept and greasy, but his clothing choice—a simple green button-up with rolled up sleeves, and beige khakis—complimented his body shape. All things considered, he wasn’t unattractive, and under better circumstances, he might have been someone that caught your eye in a club, or bar.

He flashed you a wide smile, unable to contain his excitement before introducing himself as Strade. Now that you could hear him clearly, his accent sounded more German than Dutch, as you had thought earlier, and was a pitch or two higher than Rire’s own. He mentioned something about being eager to get started, but that just made you feel worse. If your first encounter with Strade was anything to go by, you had every right to be terrified of him.

However, you gasped in horror when several thick tendrils suddenly appeared from behind Rire’s back, causing him to chuckle darkly at your reaction. Where the hell did _those_ come from? What _was_ he?! A hundred questions swirled around in your mind, clouding your ability to pay attention to the conversation that him and Strade were having. But your attention was regained when a sudden whirring noise caught you off guard, and you realized that Strade was holding a cordless drill in his left hand. You whimpered and kicked your feet, trying in vain to distance yourself from the madmen that were now approaching you. Two of Rire’s menacing black tentacles were reaching for your face, each one now armed with a smaller sized blade, while Strade’s gaze were locked onto your legs, the cordless drill getting closer and closer.

_Oh no. Oh God no…_ You thought.

* * * * *

The collection of cuts, punctures, and lacerations you had received in the last 20 minutes would likely scar you forever. And it didn’t stop there; a series of bruises also covered your body, leaving you with red, blue, and purple spots that varied in size and were tender to the touch. Yet with every fresh wound Strade and Rire inflicted, you still held onto the idea that your night couldn’t possibly get any worse, or perhaps they would show you some semblance of mercy. But they ignored your cussing, your crying, your empty threats, and even your desperate attempts to bargain with money, reminding you that you were a mortal among monsters.

The tears had blurred your vision at some point, making it difficult to see which one of them was coming up behind you until the familiar scent of cologne wafted past your nose. You flinched, expecting another blade to mark your skin, but it never came; instead, the rope binding your wrists together was cut unexpectedly. You quickly fell forward, unable to stop yourself from hitting the basement floor in time, and groaned in pain from the impact, while Rire snickered in amusement.

Onyx colored tentacles coiled themselves around your hips, slowly raising them up from off the floor. You couldn’t help but squirm in their grasp, but they kept you held in place, moving lower until they settled on your thighs. Rire was taking his sweet time, and it was making you more nervous; it only emphasized the difference in speed between him and Strade, since the latter clearly didn't care about any form of buildup, and didn't even bother removing his pants. Instead, Strade was perfectly content with undoing his fly, and fiddling around with his hand in his boxers until he had finally fished out his dick.

Your eyes went wide with shock as you stared at the hardened length before you. How on earth were you supposed to fit something that thick into your mouth? If you weren't scared before, you were scared now. All you could do was gulp nervously and try to recoil away from the dick that was suddenly in your face, only to bump into Rire and be reminded of just how stuck you truly were. And you remained frozen in fear, helplessly trapped between two tyrants who enjoyed every moment of your misery.

Rire hooked his fingers under the hem of both your pants and underwear before slowly tugging them downwards, enjoying all the protests that you made in the meantime. You couldn’t help but shiver at the change in temperature as cold air quickly surrounded the area behind you. However, the cold was soon replaced by an unexpected heat as Rire pressed his hips to yours, wedging his cock between your thighs so that its pressed up against your clit, and you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks, making you gasp. The tentacles tightly wrapped around your thighs pull you closer, leaving little space between you and Rire as he purposely grinded against it, making you whine while his hands came to rest on your waist.

The pleasure he forced upon you started to mess with your head, unintentionally causing you to part your legs even further. And once your resolve had started to crack, Rire was quick to take advantage of it. He aligned himself with your entrance before suddenly forcing it open with his cock, driving it forward until your hips met his with a rough ‘smack’. The pain overwhelmed your body from below instantly, and you barely have time to adjust to the shaft that’s violating you from behind before Strade approaches from the front. He pokes your lips with the head of his dick a few times and you shake your head in response, trying not to cry out in pain every time Rire moves. But the next time you gasp is when Strade makes his move, grabbing a fistful of your hair before shoving his cock inside.

Within seconds, your tongue is pressed flat against the inside of your mouth, barely able to move, as inch after inch of Strade's dick forces its way past your lips. The tip of it brushes past the back of your throat, instantly making you gag, and it becomes much harder to breathe now that your nose is scrunched up against the collection of messy, brown curls that cover your captor's crotch. The overwhelming scent of musk assaults your nose with every panicked breath that you take, smelling strongly of stale sweat, gasoline, and something else that you can only describe as primal.

Your stomach clenches up, eyes widening for a second as the taste of bile unexpectedly starts to burn the base of your esophagus, and gulp to prevent yourself from puking on the spot. Shutting your eyes tightly, you try to prevent more tears from running down your face, but it only makes Strade harder, his overly girthy shaft slamming itself into your throat again, and again, without mercy. He chuckles, tightening his grip on your hair with both hands to keep you locked in place, no matter how much you struggle.

One of Rire’s hands leave your waist, only for him to rake his nails across your back, leaving additional marks on your body. You let out a muffled cry around Strade’s cock as a result, and the greasy German shuts you up with another rock of his hips. Strade’s nails occasionally scratch against your scalp, as if he were ‘rewarding’ your efforts in some twisted way, and the thought of it made you cry more.

However, trying to move your hips away makes things worse and the next time that Rire sinks himself into your body, it hits right there. The contact is brief, but he picks up on the way your cunt tightens up around him for just a moment…and he snickers at your reaction, only to hit it again. The low groan you make is all of the confirmation that Rire needs before slamming into you with more force, determined to break you down from the inside out. Strade comments on the lovely sounds you make while getting fucked senseless and Rire agrees, their approval striking a cord. Intentionally pleasing them was something you hadn’t thought of, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

You began to rock on your hands and knees, catching both of them off guard with your unexpected enthusiasm, doing your best to sync yourself with their constantly changing rhythms. You moaned louder as you looked up at Strade, trying to maintain eye contact with him while your tongue serviced his cock as much as possible. And when Rire moved forward, you did your best to squeeze your pussy around his cock, hugging onto it every time it entered you.

Your ragged breathing quickly turns into hyperventilating, causing you to feel lightheaded. And the longer their abuse went on, the harder it was to think straight; every murmur, grunt, moan, and pleasured hiss eventually blending to create a sadistic, sexual symphony. Between the additional praise from Strade, who kept running his fingers through your hair, and Rire, who made sure every thrust hit that particularly sensitive spot in your body, you were starting to unravel. At some point, the thrusting from both ends manages to sync up, your body trembling and shaking as you’re left overwhelmed by their increased speed.

Overwhelmed, and yet, there was a sense of longing. You were becoming eager; leaning into Strade’s fingers whenever he pet the side of your face, grinding your ass against Rire, making the sluttiest sounds you could muster in order to please them both. You were still scared, but if putting on a show for your captors raised your chances of survival, then you’d be willing to toss your pride aside for a night.

The tendrils around your legs spread you even further, allowing for that lovely length to reach even deeper into your cunt, making your eyes roll back into your head for a moment. But Strade brought your attention back to him with a rough tug on your hair, and your tongue swirled around his dick in a makeshift apology, maintaining eye contact with him once more. With a growl, Rire’s hands were scratching up your back again, and you groaned before moving yourself even faster.

The pleasure building up in your body became your focus, deciding that trying to gain some enjoyment from this was worth a try. There was no denying how wet your cunt was, how hard your nipples had gotten, or how you wished you could grind your clit on either one of them. They were fucking you so hard that your hips were bruising, and your lips were swollen, but your body continued to betray you. Everything was turning you on, and an orgasm wasn’t too far behind.

Just when your climax seemed within reach, Strade reached his first, using both hands to pull you towards him as he came. He groaned while you whimpered, closing your eyes tightly as Strade watched you swallow down mouthful after mouthful of his cum. The aftertaste lingered on your tongue, tasting somewhat unpleasant, but you refused to show it on your face. Instead, you gulped down every drop of it like good slut would, and when he slid out of your mouth, you showed him that it was all gone.

However, with your mouth free, Rire could hear every noise you made as he railed you from behind. You clawed at the floor while he buried himself deep, and Rire sighed in relief as he reached his own climax, coating the insides of your pussy with warm, fresh cum. You clenched around him again, trying to milk him the same way you greedily milked Strade beforehand, and was so caught up in the moment that Rire’s name almost slipped past your lips as you finally came yourself. With a shiver, you crumpled onto the floor, face down and ass up, thanks to the tentacles that held you.

In the meantime, Strade cleaned himself off using your hair, smearing it with his left over cum until he was satisfied and gave you an affectionate pat on the head, giving you another compliment for your work. You were about to thank him when Rire finally pulled out, following Strade’s example by using the pants around your legs to clean off his dick, defiling you further. Your cunt burned, your jaw ached, and every other part of you was incredibly sore, but there was a sense of pride in knowing that you were able to please two people at once.

However, exhaustion was finally settling in. Sleep was starting to claim you, and your eyes slowly fluttered shut while you remained on the floor, too tired to even curl yourself up. With everything that had happened tonight, your best-case scenario would be serving as a sex slave. And your worst-case scenario?

You fell asleep before you could finish the thought.

**Author's Note:**

> { Thank you for taking the time to read this fic! Constructive criticism is encouraged and appreciated, especially since it's my first post.
> 
> And for those of you who enjoyed it, a gender-bent/alternate version of this story is currently being worked on, so please stay tuned for updates on that...}


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